


Little Buddy

by playswithworms



Series: Protectobot Beginnings [31]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Mech Preg, Mpreg, Time Shenanigans, budding, sparkling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playswithworms/pseuds/playswithworms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When everyone else needs him, First Aid doesn't always pay the closest attention to his own health, but this time really takes the cake.  Now with Bonus Chapter 2!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning** : Mpreg. Graphic mpreg, of the aliens chest birth variety, even! Things veer abruptly into a wee bit of weird space-time shenanigans at the end, which would probably make a lot more sense if I'd written all the other backstory first. Alas! I have not! But I figure y'all can cope, so I'm putting this up here anyway :)
> 
> First published March 2012.

 

One more mech to go. First Aid paused for a moment, resting his hands against the berth as his spark ached and throbbed. It hadn’t been this bad for a long time; not since being reunited with his brothers. For a long time nothing had hurt at all, but gradually the painful twinging of his spark had returned. When his brothers had been gone he’d gotten in the habit of shutting it out, the only way he could bear the unbearable, but this was getting hard to ignore. It passed and eased, after a few moments, but everything else had started to ache and twinge again now, legacy of the long-ago disrupter cannon blast when he and his brothers had still been sparklings.   
  
First Aid wanted nothing more than to take a nice long oil soak, or better yet, just curl up into a ball on his berth, but that would have to wait a little longer. The Decepticons had left some nasty new surprises on Earth. The ten new mechs that had made planetfall while both he and Ratchet were gone had been cooped up at base far too long, waiting for one of them to get back. The new upgrades provided protection, but they could be tricky to install.   
  
“Everything ok?” Trailbreaker was looking at him curiously.  
  
First Aid straightened and mustered his best reassuring-medic tone of voice. “Yes, everything’s fine. Now let’s get you finished and then you can hit the town.”  
  
“Just my luck, I can finally go exploring and it’s supposed to rain all week,” Trailbreaker said glumly.   
  
First Aid laughed as he patched in to Trailbreaker’s systems and started the upgrade sequence. Trailbreaker was a comforting, familiar presence through the link, though First Aid was careful to keep the connection professional, carefully partitioning his own discomfort and weariness. “The rain here is just water, mostly. Perfectly safe.”  
  
Trailbreaker gave him a skeptical look.  
  
“Trust me, I think you’ll really like Earth, Trailbreaker, once you get out and really see it. The weather is the best part!”   
  
“All right, I’ll take your word for it. I know Hound can’t wait to show me around.” The big mech chuckled and then gave First Aid another probing look. “You sure you’re ok, kid? They’ve been keeping you guys awfully busy since you’ve gotten here, seems like.”  
  
The wave of irritation at the question caught First Aid off guard, and he narrowly avoided sending it through the medical link up. “Yes, it’s been busy,” he managed to say, mildly enough. “You know us, though. We’re not happy unless we’re busy.” Good grief, he must be more tired than he thought. Trailbreaker didn’t mean anything by the question; he was only looking out for him, as he’d done since First Aid and the rest of his brothers were still sparklings on Cybertron. It shouldn’t be such an effort to…not say something awful. Whatever that might be. He wasn’t quite sure what awful thing he thought he was trying not to say, but nevertheless it was a very unpleasant feeling.   
  
The unpleasant feeling only got stronger as Streetwise commed him, wanting to know when he’d be finished in the medbay and if he wanted to join the impromptu welcome party getting started in the rec room. First Aid quashed everything firmly away from the bond before replying.  
  
 _Sorry, Streets. I’m…kind of tired, actually. Think I’ll probably just call it a day and go take an oil soak._ And some energon. His tank had been pinging him for the last joor only he hadn’t been paying attention. When had he last refueled? No wonder he was tired.  
  
 _Aw, we’ll come join you then. An oil soak sounds great!_  
  
 _No! No,_  First Aid sent more calmly the second time. They would all be there; he wouldn’t be able to hide that he wasn’t feeling…right.  _I don’t want you to miss the party, really Streets._  
  
 _Hmm, ok. If you’re sure_. Streetwise didn’t sound like he noticed anything was amiss, to First Aid’s relief.  _Groove will probably leave early, anyway. Then you two can go canoodle or whatever._  
  
First Aid laughed, in honest amusement that swept away all the aching and unaccustomed crankiness for a few moments. He let the warm rush of affection flood through the gestalt bond. Too far away for words, but it was returned full force by all of his brothers, like an unseen embrace. Go rest. We’ll catch you later. With you always.  
  
The warmth of that contact sustained him long enough to finish Trailbreaker’s updates, to down a few cubes of energon and clean up the medbay and then go in search of the oil baths. Which were completely empty of oil. Well…slag. First Aid resisted the urge to…do something. Throw something maybe. Hit the wall with his fists, which might be nice except that it would hurt. His faceplates felt hot. He gritted his dentae as his spark gave another of those aching twists, the pain seeming to radiate through his entire chest, enough to make him dizzy…   
  
  
  
…he was driving up the mountain, in the rain. It pelted in heavy waves against his armor. He was too hot. The stinging coldness felt soothing, beating down on him, against him, hard enough to distract him from the fact that he felt…really quite awful, actually. And what was he doing up here again? A gust of wind nearly blew him to the side of the road, which dropped off into misty nothingness past the guardrail, and small faint voice of self-preservation from somewhere in the back of his processor suggested that maybe he should slow down and pull over? Not as easy as it sounded. Alarm pierced the strange detachment in First Aid’s processor as his alt mode slid helplessly sideways for a moment before his tires caught traction again. Ice. The road was icing over. This was not good.   
  
He rolled cautiously to a stop and then transformed. Which was a mistake, apparently. For a long time he could only crouch and press his hands to the icy road, trembling and trying not to purge his tanks as his chest compartment did its best to impale him from the inside with a thousand white-hot energon swords. A strange program he didn’t recognize pinged him with a request, which he dismissed without investigating although the “strange” part worried him a little. He shouldn’t have programs he didn’t recognize, but he didn’t have the processor concentration to deal with it right now. The core temperature warning he did recognize, at least. Vent. Fans. Yes, better. He’d been holding his breath. Up. Stand. Good. He wasn’t going to try transforming again, that’s for sure. He’d been going up, which meant he should…go back down? Back to…his processor floundered for a moment, then grabbed the name, the image of his brother in relief. Hot Spot. But no, Hot Spot would worry. He didn’t want Hot Spot to worry. He just needed somewhere…if he just walked slowly for awhile, in the rain, as long as he watched out for the icy parts…

 

* * *

 

  
  
Groove’s growing concern, spreading wordlessly through the gestalt bond made Hot Spot, Streetwise, and Blades exchange glances and excuse themselves from the party. Groove couldn’t find First Aid.  
  
“He's blocking us,” Hot Spot said, faceplates set as they strode rapidly to meet up with Groove.  
  
Blades was frowning with concentration as he, too, tried to find his brother in the gestalt bond. First Aid was still there, he just wasn’t…there. It was like trying to grab a handful of atmosphere. “He hasn’t done that since…” Not since they were sparklings, when he would quietly drop off the gestalt radar to try to spare them his pain, and again, for that little time after they were reunited. It had taken awhile before Aid could bring himself to lower the vorn-deep walls that had kept him alive, but since then…the gestalt bond roiled with bafflement and worry and an unshakable determination. They wouldn’t lose him again. They wouldn’t, not all the forces of space and time could stop them, and that was simply that.  
  
“Guys, are your comms down, too?” Streetwise asked, just as they nearly collided with Red Alert and Prowl coming around the corner.  
  
“Hot Spot, good. Take your team and deploy—”  
  
“Sir,” Hot Spot interrupted Prowl firmly. “We can’t find First Aid, and he’s blocking the gestalt link. Something’s wrong.”  
  
Prowl and Red Alert exchanged grim looks, and Red Alert shook his head. “All signals are being jammed. We can’t scan for his spark signature, but the last record has him exiting the base point three five one joors ago.”   
  
The worry level in the gestalt bond went up another several notches. Prowl surveyed them calmly, but his doorwings were on high alert, and at some unspoken signal between them Red Alert continued down the corridor at a fast clip, presumably to notify the rest of the mechs still on base.   
  
“We just received a distress signal from Sideswipe, cut off when the jamming started,” Prowl said. “We weren’t able to pinpoint his location, but he and Sunstreaker were patrolling approximately six miles west of base, heading in due to deteriorating weather conditions. Could First Aid have been going to meet them, for some reason?”   
  
“He said he was going to take an oil soak, and he sounded pretty tired,” Streetwise said. “I don’t think he was planning to go anywhere…” Unless he was taken. Or lured out somehow.  
  
“We can split up,” Hot Spot said, thinking rapidly. “Streetwise and Groove can look for Aid here, in case he came back. Blades and I will go after the twins.” Of them all, Streetwise had the best chance of finding any clues that might tell them where Aid had gone, and the gestalt bond would allow at least some level of communication even with comms down.  
  
Prowl nodded once, sharply. “Agreed. I’ll send Trailbreaker and Hound for backup,” he said, and took off after Red Alert. Streetwise transformed into alt mode, technically against rules in the corridors, but no one was worried about that now. Blades gave him a reassuring thump on the hood before Streetwise took off in a squeal of tires to meet up with Groove.  
  
“Whoa,” Blades said, as the first blast of icy rain hit them upon exiting the base.   
  
“Can you fly in this?” Hot Spot asked, shielding his optics from the onslaught with one hand.  
  
“We’ll find out!” Blades said, giving his brother a fierce grin before leaping into the torrential gray sky.

 

* * *

   
  
Even using his pile drivers to break up the ice on the road, the footing was still treacherous. It seemed to re-accumulate as fast as Sideswipe could brush it away, and the crushed remnants were still slippery.   
  
“Come on, Sunny, we’re almost there!” he shouted, the wind and icy rain seeming to snatch the words and stuff them back down his throat. Glah. Sideswipe choked and spat. Stupid precipitation.  
  
Sunstreaker didn’t answer, and Sideswipe turned, scowling at the trail of leaking energon behind his brother, visible even through the relentless downpour. The surprise cluster bomb from Ramjet had missed them both, but the resulting rock fall had done a decent job of mashing Sunstreaker’s side and leg up anyway. And a few of those rocks had done a very satisfactory job of denting Ramjet’s left wing, Sideswipe remembered with a certain amount of smugness.   
  
Sunstreaker glared at him. “The frag we're almost there. We’ve barely made it to the first turn.”   
  
“Yeah, well, it’s all downhill after this. We can probably just slide home on our afts!”  
  
Sunstreaker grabbed a chunk of road ice and flung it weakly in his direction. “I’m not scuffing my paintjob sliding on this slag. Just keep going, wiseaft.”  
  
Sunstreaker’s paint job was rather more than scuffed, but Sideswipe wisely decided against mentioning it. For now. Also his brother’s optics were dim and flickering and he looked like slag smelted twice over, and the patch job he’d managed to do on the leaks obviously wasn’t holding at all. Hopefully there was a rescue crew making their way towards them right now. Sideswipe debated stopping and finding some place to hole up and try to patch those leaks again. He was pretty sure his signal had gotten through before everything cut out, but the mechs at base might be dealing with their own set of problems for all he knew.   
  
Sunstreaker was blinking at something just over Sideswipe’s shoulder, in a puzzled sort of way.  
  
“Hey,” Sideswipe felt a stronger flare of worry move through his spark. He moved closer, shielding Sunstreaker from at least some of the wind and waved a hand in front of his brother’s face. “Stay with me now, Sunnyboy.”  
  
Sunstreaker batted at his hand with a growl, and then his gaze drifted up over his shoulder again. “Do you see that, too? Or am I starting to hallucinate.”   
  
Sideswipe turned. “Sweet Primus on high grade.” It was either the answer to his prayers or a really bad sign. If Sunny was hallucinating, then so was he. Or the base had blown up and flung all the resident mechs all over the mountain.   
He got up and slid-walked down the road a few spans. The apparition seemed solid enough when he reached up and tapped it on the foot. “Hey, Aid. How’s it hangin’?” he shouted through the wind.  
  
“Sideswipe?” came the medic’s faint, startled reply.  
  
“Yeah, the one and only! You want to slide on down? I’ll catch you.” Up closer he could see the medic was dented and scratched, one foot braced on a small outjut of rock and his hands clinging desperately to the rocky cliffside. First Aid came down faster and heavier than Sideswipe expected, and they both slid down the road a bit until he was able to angle them into a convenient boulder.   
  
First Aid clung to him tightly, blindly, his visor coated with a thin sheen of ice. Sideswipe tapped at the visor cautiously with one hand and the ice slid off cleanly in one piece. First Aid’s blue optics blinked at him dazedly. “How the frag did you get up there?”  
  
“I think…I don’t know…” First Aid shivered deeply, though his armor felt innocuously warm under Sideswipe’s hands. “I think I slid off the road. I didn’t know…where the ground was.” Nothing seemed too badly damaged, as far as he could tell, but Sideswipe wondered if the fall might have rattled Aid’s processor. He seemed a little out of it.   
  
“What did they do, send you out alone to rescue us?” Sideswipe joked. Highly unlikely. Where First Aid was, the rest of his brothers wouldn’t be far behind. Sideswipe was surprised they weren’t here already. And only reason there wasn’t a horde of Aerialbots was because they were still in Washington with Optimus and everyone else. He guided the medic into the lee of the little nook, where a second larger slab of rock propped against the one that had stopped them provided some shelter. Sideswipe sighed in relief at the lack of wind; it wasn’t even icy under here. The solid footing felt strangely pleasant, after all the slipping and skidding around.  
  
“Rescue you?” First Aid looked around dazedly. If Sideswipe’s memory banks of the area served him right, First Aid had probably tumbled a good twenty decaspans from the alternate scenic route that passed just above them along the mountain. No wonder he was disoriented; he was lucky to still be in one piece, but as the left arm of Defensor as well as a pacifist medic, First Aid could be a surprisingly tough energon cookie.   
  
“Yeah, Ramjet surprised us. Sunny’s hurt.” First Aid straightened at that, his gaze sharpening and visor rippling with iridescence as he scanned Sideswipe for signs of injury and then looked around for the missing twin.   
  
“Sunstreaker, where is he?” Aid made as if to push past Sideswipe and back to the road, but Sideswipe nudged him firmly back.  
  
“No, no. You stay here. I’ll bring him down to you.”  
  
The ice on the downslope of the road was thicker, and beginning to mix with intermittent tiny needles of snow, but it was conversely easier to clear. Under his pile drivers it cracked into solid sheets that held together and could be easily shoved to the side to make a path. First Aid was scanning and unfolding various medical implements even before he had Sunstreaker fully in their little shelter. Sideswipe eased his brother to the ground and sighed in relief as Aid sent him directly into medical stasis and started in on the worst of the damage and connected an energon transfusion. Give the guy a patient and First Aid was steady as a gravity lock, even if he had had his processor rattled a bit. Or not. First Aid’s visor flickered as he inhaled sharply, while his hands paused in their repairs.  
  
“Aid? Hey?” Sideswipe bent over and examined him more closely. He still didn’t see any major damages or leaking, but maybe the medic knocked something loose internally? “You all right?”  
  
After a moment First Aid nodded and continued his repairs, but when he winced and ducked his helm and paused a second time, Sideswipe bent and gripped the medic by his shoulders. “First Aid? Old buddy old pal? You are definitely not all right. Do me a favor and scan yourself, ok?”  
  
“But…”  
  
“Sunstreaker will hold for a few kliks.” His brother looked much better already, the leaking sealed off again and his energy levels reading low but steady and rising to Sideswipe’s basic scans.  
  
First Aid nodded reluctantly and carefully extracted himself from Sunstreaker’s systems. He settled back on his knees, and then suddenly doubled over, curling in on himself with an odd jerkiness, as if he couldn’t quite help it. His vents were running harder than Ironhide's after a two-hundred mile per hour sprint. Oh yeah, something was definitely not right. Sideswipe leaned his head out and scanned his optics across the iced-over surroundings. The rest of the calvary should be arriving aaany klik now. He hoped.   
  
“Oh…”  
  
First Aid had a hand up over his chestplates. His optics, when he raised them to look at Sideswipe, looked stunned beyond all measure.   
  
“What! What is it?” Sideswipe asked, his spark sinking. Oh slag, Aid was dying, or something equivalently awful. He’d never seen the medic with that particular expression before, no matter what the crisis. “Can you fix it?”   
  
First Aid shook his head with a small, slightly hysterical laugh. “No, this is…” He laughed again and then cut off with a gasp of pain. Sideswipe regarded him with alarm, hoping he wasn’t about to expire as he watched. “Not exactly…fixable…I’m afraid,” Aid continued after a moment, to Sideswipe’s relief. “I think I can override.”  
  
“Override, great.” Sideswipe nodded, yeah, ok, that sounded better than ‘we will meet again in the Matrix, my friend’ at least. “You do that. Override what?”   
  
“Budding program.” First Aid leaned back in to continue Sunstreaker’s repairs, his hands shaking slightly. He clenched and relaxed them a few times until they steadied again, and then swiftly started in on welding and rewiring a torn portion of Sunstreaker’s leg circuitry.  
  
“Budding program.” What the frag? Sideswipe let that process for a moment. As in…sparkling budding program? Roller was the only budded sparkling that Sidewipe knew of, not that he’d paid much attention to the science and medical geeks and all their fussing over the little bot’s unusual development. Roller had been a source of great excitement, initially, as an alternative to generating new sentient mechanisms with the lost and now destroyed Allspark, but in Perceptor’s words it seemed that “Roller was a singular event, unlikely to be replicated.” He wouldn’t put it past First Aid to have given it a try, though.  
  
“Aid,” he said slowly. “What did you do?”  
  
First Aid shook his head in denial. “I didn’t do anything!” He stilled and bent inward again, with a muffled sound of pain, and then straightened after a moment and reached back towards Sunstreaker’s leg. “I didn’t…know he was there! His spark is stable, he’s just impossible. The space-time continuum, he shouldn’t…there’s no way he should  _exist_ ; I thought the scanner was malfunctioning, spark echoes...”  
  
Space-time continuum? Sideswipe suspected First Aid was delirious, or heading into shock; he wasn’t making sense at all, although his hands moved deftly as ever as he continued his repairs. “He’ll be fine, I think, if I can just—” First Aid’s hands paused. He retracted his welders, pulled a protective piece of armor back over the open portion of Sunstreaker’s leg, just in time as his back struts arched sharply this time. First Aid’s chestplates cracked open slightly, a few fine, gleaming silver threads spilling out.   
  
“Oh no. Oh no you don’t.” Sideswipe wasn’t quite sure what he was babbling, but one thing he knew for sure was that First Aid was no way having a freaking freaky bud-thing right in front of him. “You just close that up right now!”   
  
First Aid came down from his strut bending arch, vents starting back up again with a strained whine of air, his chestplates still slightly open. “Sorry. Program’s overriding…my override. I can’t…” First Aid curled up with a gasp and then arched himself back yet again. Sideswipe, fearless frontline warrior of an eons-long conflict, backed away in complete terror, turning to look for someone, anyone else…and found himself staring right into the sneering face of his least favorite conehead.  
  
“Found you, fragger,” Ramjet said. “Think you’re pretty handy with those rocks, do you?”   
  
Sideswipe, in a burst of his own special brand of Sideswipian genius and improvisation, made no attempt to hide his frenzied panic. “Run! Run while you still can!” he gasped, wild-opticked, grabbing the front of Ramjet’s armor and shaking it a little. The jet, startled, tried to back away and shove him off at the same time and slipped on the ice, falling to his aft.  
  
Sideswipe pointed back to their little shelter with a trembling hand. “It’s infected all of us! It’s eating us from the inside!” Most conveniently, First Aid’s chestplates had split open further and a veritable cascade of silvery tendrils was spilling out, all connected to a solid silver mass at the center. Sideswipe could see how the threads and tendrils had invaded every part of Aid’s chest and even spark chamber, and gave a shudder of entirely unfeigned horror.   
  
“We’re doomed,” he choked, falling to his knees and clawing at his own chest. Sideswipe made his voice gargle and rasp like a zombie from a human horror movie. “Run, save yourself while you still— _gargle_ —caaaan!”  
  
Ramjet scrambled frantically, sliding further as he attempted to get his legs back under him. He finally dragged himself to the side of the road, and with one more horrified backward glance, flung himself into the abyss. Sideswipe heard the faltering roar of his turbines a moment later, so he must have managed to transform and get airborne. Pity.   
  
He turned back to the shelter. First Aid was hunched over again, hands on the ground with the silvery ball hanging partly out of his chest. His whole frame was shaking. At first Sideswipe thought he was sobbing in pain or sheer terror, entirely understandable, but when he went closer he realized the medic was laughing. “Aid, hey…holy crap,” he said helplessly. He knelt down and awkwardly patted one shoulder.  
  
“Sideswipe,” First Aid whispered, between gasps of air, still laughing weakly. He leaned forward so his helm clunked against Sideswipe’s chest. “Only you.”  
  
Sideswipe could feel his brother struggling out of the medical stasis and back into confused awareness. “Guess what, Sunny!” he said brightly, in a state past panic and somewhere well into a sort of pleasantly relaxed insanity. “We’re gonna be uncles. Or something! Whatever.”  
  
“Don’t move, Sunstreaker,” First Aid directed, switching back into medic mode for a moment and managing to sound stern despite all of the…weird stuff, hanging out of his chest. “You’ll strain those welds.”  
  
“He’s budding a sparkling,” Sideswipe informed his brother cheerfully.   
  
“I can see that.” Sunstreaker shoved himself to a sitting position, despite First Aid’s hiss of either protest or pain. “Why aren’t you helping him instead of acting like an idiot?”   
  
Now that was entirely unfair! Acting like an idiot had probably just saved all their lives, for Pit’s sake. In fact, he should probably get a medal. He lost himself in a two-klik fantasy of Optimus Prime hanging a huge medallion around his neck, and kissing him solemnly on either cheekplate…. Still, maybe he  _should_  be doing something…helpful. Help. Oh what he wouldn’t give for his most favorite, wonderful Ratchet right now, and  _where the frag were First Aid's brothers, anyway!?_ Sideswipe took a deep vent. Helpful. He was being helpful.   
  
“Should I…pull on it, or something?” Or boil water. That’s what they did when humans had babies, he vaguely remembered from somewhere.  
  
First Aid shook his head, voice strained but falling back into his usual calm, as if he were talking an untrained assistant through a tricky repair of a friend (or sparktwin, or gestaltmate) in the middle of a battlefield. “No. The umbilical threads need to seal off gradually as they detach.” He paused to tense and arch back again, a smaller movement this time. The silvery ball eased out further, and he leaned his helm back against Sideswipe’s chest. “If they tear out,” he continued after a moment, “I could leak to death.”  
  
“Ah. Ok, then.” Holy frag! This budding business was  _so_  not his cube of energon. “No pulling.” Thank Primus for small favors, at least.   
  
“I think…the program pretty much runs itself. You’re doing great, Sideswipe.” First Aid patted Sideswipe’s chestplate with a hand that felt furnace-warm against his armor. “Just hang in there.”   
  
“Oh, ok. Good. I’ll just…keep doing what I’m doing then.” Whatever that was. Mostly just letting First Aid lean on him. Ha! This wasn’t so bad! Sideswipe started to relax as nothing too exciting happened for awhile. The silvery ball slid down gradually, dangling now under First Aid’s chest by only a portion of the threads.  
  
“Can you…catch him?” First Aid gasped, engine running continuously at a high, straining whine. His hands had tightened to a death grip on Sideswipe’s armor. “The ground is cold.”   
  
“Catch him…” Sideswipe repeated. Sunstreaker gave Sideswipe a look of pure disgust and angled around to cradle his hands under First Aid’s chest. First Aid made a desperate, choked-off sound, and the whole silvery mass slid gently into Sunstreaker's hands, the rest of the threads slithering to dangle through his fingers.  
  
First Aid panted, steaming hot air heaving through his vents as he leaned heavily against Sideswipe. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker goggled at the…thing, sparkling, bud-thing, as it sat there, small and round, gleaming and quiescent, and then stared at each other with matching befuddled expressions.   
  
“Is it ok?” Sunstreaker asked at last. First Aid nodded, optics dim as he slowly sat back on his knees, his chestplates gradually pulling closed. Sideswipe winced. The insides of Aid’s chest components looked…well, they kind of looked like they’d been pulverized by a horde of angry cyberleeches, but at least there was only a little energon seeping here and there, not nearly enough to be leaking to death.  
  
“Protective stasis,” Aid explained, his voice a hoarse rasp, but still sounding annoyingly calm for someone who had just had a…well a  _that entire thing_  fall out of his chest. “Cyberhounds usually lick their buddlings to bring them out of it.”   
  
Sunstreaker looked briefly appalled, but hesitantly lifted the silvery mass towards his mouth components. First Aid put out a hand to stop him, a world of fond amusement in his optics. “I think fingers will suffice,” he said.  
  
Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge. “Ah.” He gently rolled the mass to one hand and used the other to stroke through the threads, as if petting a tiny turbokitten. Sideswipe watched his brother in no little wonder, not to mention resentment. What right did Sunstreaker have to look like he knew what he was doing! Curiosity getting the better of him, Sideswipe reached out a finger as well and stroked through the threads. They felt faintly stretchy and slippery and very soft. The silvery ball let out a tiny cheep.  
  
“Hey!” Sideswipe laughed, a little too loudly, feeling an unexpected rush of relief at the sign of life. “Little buddy! Come on out and meet us.” The little ball unfolded slightly, two delicately jointed arms, hands with four impossibly tiny fingers each, a small helm lifting.   
  
“Oh, wow,” Sideswipe said in wonder, as the bright blue optics lit, focusing immediately on First Aid. The sparkling made a questioning squeak-cheep. Sunstreaker tipped him gently into First Aid’s waiting hands. The silver threads detached and fell to the ground in a cascade, leaving the sparkling covered with faint, fuzzy stubs.   
  
“That’s normal,” Aid said almost absently. The sparkling unfolded little legs, complete with three tiny support nubs each. First Aid touched them gently with his finger. “Hello there,” he murmured. “Look at you.” Sideswipe leaned in closer to see, and the sparkling squeaked again and squirmed around so he was gripping First Aid’s hand, peering at Sideswipe and then up at First Aid through the fingers. First Aid cupped his other hand against him, although the little guy seemed to have a pretty good grip. Like a fuzzy, clingy little energon bee, just like Roller had been when Sideswipe had first seen him. He’d almost forgotten how  _tiny_  Roller had been, barely larger than First Aid’s smallest finger. This sparkling was bigger and sturdier, fitting neatly into one hand.   
  
“Full firewalls. Good.” First Aid sighed, then shivered and cradled the sparkling close, curling up around him. The storm hadn’t abated at all, though none of them had been paying much attention. Sideswipe tried to angle himself so he was blocking more of the wind, and Sunstreaker, in unspoken agreement, propped himself up so he and Sideswipe could sandwich First Aid and the little one between them. First Aid protested softly, something about Sunstreaker’s injuries, but the yellow twin only growled softly in response. This probably wasn’t the best weather for a new-budded sparkling to hang out in for long.   
  
After a few moments Sunstreaker gave his brother a worried poke. First Aid had started trembling more frequently now, in small intermittent bouts; his armor seemed to be cooling down at an alarming rate, though his hands around the sparkling, when Sideswipe checked, were still toasty warm. The little blue optics were still bright and alert, peering up at the three helms above him.  
  
“Where are your brothers? Hm? Aid?” Sideswipe nudged the medic a little. Maybe they were having trouble figuring out a way through the weather, but he’d seen the Protectobots pull off some remarkable feats before. He didn’t think a little ice and wind would slow them down for long, especially with one of their own in need of rescue.   
  
First Aid’s trembling grew harder and he sobbed once against Sideswipe’s shoulder, just as Sideswipe’s comm system crackled back to life.  
  
 _Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, report. Do you read?_  
  
 _Hot Spot!_  Sideswipe replied in relief, sending their coordinates.  _Loud and clear. I figured you guys would be showing up any nanoklik now. There’s someone here you should probably meet._  
  
 _Have you seen any sign of First Aid?_  Hot Spot couldn’t quite disguise the spark-deep worry in the transmission, the steady gestalt leader sounding for a moment like the youngster he still was.  _We think he may be somewhere out on the mountain._    
  
 _He’s here, with us, Hot Spot, don’t worry_ , Sideswipe answered quickly. First Aid was trying to burrow into his armor, sobs shaking him, though the sparkling remained carefully cradled. Sideswipe tried to hold him tighter, awkwardly, without faceplanting into Sunstreaker. Those damn gestalt cuddlefests always made it look so easy.  _You…didn’t know?_ How could Hot Spot not know? There wasn’t enough distance that the gestalt link should be _that_  attenuated…  
  
 _Oh thank Primus._  Hot Spot sounded as if he were on the verge of weeping himself, with the magnitude of his relief. _He’s been blocking us out. Is he all right?_    
  
Now how to answer that, exactly. Sideswipe pondered for a moment, but not wanting to leave Hot Spot hanging just settled for putting it baldly. _He’s not really injured, I don’t think, but he’s not doing so hot, either. He just budded off a sparkling, and the little guy seems all right so far, but I think we need to get them both out of here as soon as possible._  
  
There was a long pause. Sideswipe waited for questions, disbelief, accusations of playing some tasteless joke…  
  
A large pale blue fire truck landed with a crash just outside their shelter, skidding down the road slightly before transforming. Blades followed immediately after, landing more neatly, transforming and giving Hot Spot a hand to brace him back up the road. Sideswipe rather expected to be yanked out of their shelter and tossed down the road so Blades and Hot Spot could get to their gestaltmate, but Hot Spot merely crouched down, scanning briefly over the three…four, inside. To Sideswipe’s astonishment, First Aid cringed away and curled up tighter.   
  
“Sunstreaker, how bad are your injuries?” Hot Spot asked in a low gentle tone, his optics never leaving First Aid.  
  
“Aid patched me up. I’m fine.”  
  
Hot Spot nodded. “Blades could probably get you down, but it’s a bumpy ride for those welds. He can take Sideswipe and I’ll stay here. I think Defensor will be able to manage both you and Aid.”   
  
Sideswipe frowned, not liking the idea of leaving Sunny when he was only running at fifty percent. Sunstreaker, not so subtly, poked him hard through the bond and told him to stop being a dolt. Besides, when the Protectobots set out to rescue someone, gestaltmate or not, they didn’t tend to come back empty-handed. He carefully rolled the huddled bundle of First Aid and sparkling to Sunstreaker and stepped out to find himself unceremoniously snatched up by Blades. Hot Spot hadn’t been kidding, it was a hell of a bumpy ride. It would have been fun except for all the ice in the faceplates. Blades dropped him at the entrance of the base, where Streetwise and Groove were waiting. They gave Sideswipe slightly frazzled waves before their brother vaulted them away.  
  
“Sideswipe.” Wheeljack was tapping him insistently on the shoulder, tugging him back inside the hangar entrance, out of the worst of the weather. “What’s this about First Aid  _budding a sparkling?_ ”  
  
“I don’t know, Wheeljack. His chest—” Sideswipe mimed the silvery threads by wiggling his fingers, “—and then the sparkling, it just sort of fell out!”   
  
Wheeljack gave him a searching look, but then seemed to take Sideswipe’s somewhat incoherent explanation as evidence of sincerity.  
  
“And how were they both doing? Did the sparkling seem ok?”  
  
“I think so. He was making little squeaks and looking around and all that. And Aid said he had firewalls.” Wheeljack gave a relieved nod at that. “First Aid seemed all right at first, but I think he was starting to go into shock or something.”  
  
“I can imagine,” Wheeljack murmured. “And you know what he’s like; he doesn’t let himself fall apart until everything else is under control. Well, his brothers are with him now. They’ll get him back here soon, and Skyfire’s on his way with Ratchet and Optimus. We’re not sure what the ‘Cons were trying to accomplish this time, but whatever it was it’s not going to work.”  
  
Sideswipe nodded and revved his engine, surprised at the fierce protectiveness that surged through him suddenly. Oh yeah. Any ‘Con that tried to come within shooting distance of the new little one was going to find himself very very sorry.  
  
Even through the obscuring downpour, Defensor was hard to miss as he stepped carefully down the last stretch to the base, First Aid and Sunstreaker held one-armed but secure against the mighty chest. The gestalt dismantled into his component Protectobots, Groove and Streetwise helping steady the limping Sunstreaker while Hot Spot carried First Aid, who was still in his protective huddle around the sparkling. He and Wheeljack and Blades strode rapidly towards the medbay while the rest of them followed at Sunstreaker’s slower pace. When they arrived, Hot Spot was sitting with First Aid on one of the berths while Wheeljack checked them over.  
  
“Little fellow’s doing great, far as I can tell,” Wheeljack informed them. “First Aid’s pretty much running on fumes, but he’s not in any immediate danger. He’s also running some pretty crazy programming right now, though, and his emotional algorithms are in shreds; I’m going to leave him to you guys for the moment. You’re a bit of a wreck, aren’t you, kiddo,” Wheeljack said sympathetically, patting the shivering little medic in Hot Spot’s arms. First Aid made a muffled sound that might have been agreement, followed by a tiny cheep-squeak. Groove, Streetwise, and Blades exchanged wondering, slightly awestruck glances as they clambered up to snuggle in.  
  
“Please, Aid,” Groove murmured gently against First Aid’s audio. “Let us back in.” First Aid sobbed quietly, but uncoiled a fraction.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out.  
  
“It’s ok,” Hot Spot said, holding them all close. “Everything’s all right now. We’re here, you didn’t do anything wrong.”  
  
“I promised, I didn’t mean to shut you out, but I went away and I didn’t know he was even  _there_ …I messed up, I’m so sorry, Spot.”  
  
All four of Aid’s brothers showered him with reassuring babble, and Aid uncoiled the rest of the way and burrowed in, sparkling still cradled against his center, weeping as if his spark were broken.   
  
“There he goes, they’ve got him.” Wheeljack nodded in satisfaction, his optics suspiciously bright around the edges. “Let’s get you looked at, Sunstreaker. So,” he chuckled, “did First Aid do these repairs before the little guy arrived or after? They look pretty good.”  
  
Sunstreaker grunted his standard non-reply. “He kind of did everything all at once, I think,” Sideswipe said, then jumped as Ratchet barreled into the medbay. Wheeljack waved a calming hand and Ratchet gave him an ‘I’m not an overreacting idiot and I’ve been dealing with emergencies since you were a protoform’ glare and strolled, with pointed casualness, to the Protectobots’ berth.   
  
“You, sit until I can get to you,” Ratchet ordered, not even looking as Optimus came in behind him. “Do not move.” Optimus sat obediently on the berth neighboring Sunstreaker’s. They all looked at him with a mix of curiosity and concern; he didn’t look damaged anywhere. Optimus shrugged with a dignity that shouldn’t be possible from a mech who’d just been ordered to hold still like an errant sparkling.   
  
“I hear you gentlemechs had a busy day,” he rumbled, leaning companionably toward them on one elbow, his optics warm on his favorite pair of twin hooligans, although his glance towards the Protectobots and Ratchet was concerned.   
  
“Sideswipe completely lost it,” Sunstreaker informed their Prime helpfully.  
  
“I did not!”   
  
“I am certain it was stressful for all involved,” Optimus said diplomatically. “Though we have not had time to determine whether it is possible, or even advisable, to keep our new arrival here completely under wraps, I trust I can rely on your discretion for now?”  
  
Sunstreaker nodded, optics flaring. Sideswipe sighed briefly for the lost opportunity to spread the incredible news, but yeah. He could see Optimus’s point, and he’d never forgive himself if he put the sparkling in danger. “You can count on us, sir.”   
  
First Aid’s weeping had calmed finally to hiccuping ventilations. He leaned against his brothers as Ratchet checked him over gently, then indicated the sparkling. “Can I see?”  
  
First Aid unfolded his hands. The tiny face blinked up at Ratchet and then squeaked and scrambled with remarkable agility up First Aid’s arm to disappear somewhere behind his neck. Ratchet looked nonplussed for a moment.   
  
“Now see here…” Ratchet paused and pitched his voice softer and higher. “Young mech, come out here. I’m not going to hurt you.” Sideswipe was glad he was far enough away that Ratchet couldn’t hear his snicker. He knew to his struts that _of course_  the sparkling was in no danger from Ratchet, but he wouldn’t have bought it either. Smart little doober.   
  
“I don’t think the little guy’s buying it, Ratch,” Streetwise said, snickering as well, though the Protectobot’s optics were bright with wonder as he watched the sparkling hiding behind First Aid’s neck.   
  
Ratchet gave Streetwise a token narrowing of the optics. “Hm. There’s nothing wrong with his locomotory abilities, at least.”   
  
“I’m sorry, Ratchet, Optimus, sir,” First Aid said, his voice no more than a wavering, exhausted whisper. He reached one hand back to cup around the sparkling. “I should have paid better attention. I put…I put everyone in danger, including him.” First Aid brought his hand back around, the sparkling clinging tightly, hiding his face between Aid’s fingers. Optimus quietly left the berth and went over to them.   
  
“We have always asked more than we should of and your brothers, First Aid, from your very beginnings. If you are at fault then so are we. You found yourself in unexpected and extenuating circumstances, to put it mildly, and I am certainly in no position to judge.” There was a hint of old sorrow in the Autobot commander’s voice, though his optics brightened in a smile as the sparkling rearranged himself so he could peer up from behind First Aid’s hand, blinking up at Optimus in fascination. “Don’t worry about anything right now, that’s an order.”  
  
“Seconded.” Ratchet scowled up at Optimus. “Here, make yourself useful. Stand there and make faces or something and distract him, so I can get a proper look.”   
  
“Faces?” Optimus murmured, but gamely knelt closer, and when the sparkling showed no signs of alarm, retracted his face mask and moved his optic ridges up and down. “Bah-weep-Graaaaagnah wheep mini bong, little one,” he said gravely.  
  
The sparkling looked up at First Aid and chortled, a high-pitched cascade of electronic laughter that had everyone grinning. Though he stayed mostly hidden behind First Aid’s hand, Ratchet was able to delicately placed his own hand behind the little frame, scanning lightly. “That spark signature…” Ratchet seemed stunned by whatever he was reading. “I can see…how that might have confused the issue in detecting his presence.”   
  
“Ratchet, is he ok?” Sunstreaker asked. Sideswipe turned and stared at his brother, who determinedly ignored him. Since when had Sunstreaker started showing concern for other lifeforms like this, out loud at least?  
  
“He’s very healthy, his energy levels look great,” Ratchet said slowly, “he’s just…”  
  
“Bumblebee,” First Aid whispered, stroking a finger down the sparkling’s back struts and then cradling him between his hands again.   
  
“Undeniably.” Ratchet nodded agreement.   
  
Everyone exchanged confused looks, and Ratchet elaborated. “His spark, while still very new and unsophisticated, like all newsparks, is identical in all other respects to Bumblebee’s. Every spark scans a unique spectrum, even split sparks, like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. As unlikely as it seems, there is no other explanation other than this is, indeed, also Bumblebee.”   
  
The rest of the Protectobots looked flummoxed, but thoughtful. They were no strangers to the vagaries of space-time continuums themselves. Everyone let that sink in for awhile, watching the movements of the tiny silver sparkling as he snuggled into a neat ball between First Aid’s hands, optics dimming and shuttering as he dropped into recharge. First Aid was on the verge himself.  
  
“I’m just so tired…” First Aid murmured, his optics shuttering as well. Hot Spot tucked him in closer while Ratchet set up an energon transfusion line.  
  
“Bumblebee,” Optimus murmured down to the drowsing pair, appearing deep in thought as he looked at the sparkling who would one day, far in the future-past, become one of his finest soldiers and dearest friends. “Rest, all of you,” he told the Protectobots before moving out of Ratchet’s way and returning to his spot on the berth.   
  
“Congratulations, Grand-Creator,” Optimus said to Wheeljack quietly, an amused twinkle to his optics.   
  
“Didn’t expect to reach that status for several thousand more vorns,” Wheeljack laughed, finishing the last few connections to Sunstreaker’s leg repairs. “Didn’t expect to reach it,  _ever_ , come to think of it.”  
  
“Indeed.” Optimus nodded. “That First Aid was able to somehow duplicate the budding process…if we can rediscover this it could mean the salvation of our race.”  
  
“Overachiever,” Sideswipe muttered. Optimus chuckled. Hadn’t the Protectobots already saved the Cybertronian race, like, four or five times already? It was really starting to get ridiculous.  
  
“Bumblebee.” Wheeljack shook his head in wonder. “That actually kind of explains some things,” he said softly. Optimus nodded in agreement.   
  
Sideswipe nodded too. He had been there when First Aid had discovered Bumblebee, vorns ago, floating in deep stasis in orbit around Cybertron. The medic had been the one to bring him back to activation, against all odds, had fussed over and cared for him tirelessly until Bumblebee had regained his function, if not his memories. An ancient warrior from Cybertron’s past, lost in some forgotten cataclysm, or so they’d assumed. Now, it seemed, Bumblebee had come from the future, but had somehow gotten into the past? Sideswipe shook his head. Mucking around with time made his processor spin. A sudden, horrifying thought struck him.  
  
//That’s just human sci-fi slag. Isn’t it?// Sunstreaker’s optics were wide and worried too, now.   
  
//Of course it is// Sideswipe scoffed, unconvincingly.  _Their_  Bumblebee wouldn’t just poof out of existence because he couldn’t exist with himself in the same space-time plane. Would he?  
  
 _Um, Bumblebee, you there?_ Sideswipe opened a comm signal.   
  
 _Hey, Sideswipe_ , Bumblebee’s cheery reply came almost immediately. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both heaved synchronized sighs of relief.  _How are you guys doing? I understand there was some excitement up there._    
  
 _That’s putting it mildly._  Sideswipe snickered inwardly. Oh, if only he knew.  _Everything’s under control now, just checking up on you._    
  
 _You and my surrogate Creator,_ Bumblebee laughed.  _First Aid just called, too. Poor kid, he sounded tired. Is he ok?_  
  
 _He had a bit of a rough day, but he’s all snuggled up with his brothers right now._  
  
 _Aw, give him a hug for me later, will you?_  
  
 _I’ll do that. Take care of yourself, Bee._  
  
 _Can do!_  
  
“Open up,” Ratchet said unceremoniously. He had apparently moved on to his next target. Optimus put his hands over his chestplates defensively, looking alarmed.  
  
“Now Ratchet, I hardly think…”  
  
“This is the second time this has happened on my watch, Optimus. It’s not happening again. Full spectrum-resonance spark scans for every last mechanism on this planet. No. Exceptions.”   
  
“Even Decepticons?” Sideswipe quipped.  
  
Ratchet whirled on him. “If you’ll do me the favor of pinning them down, yes.”   
  
Sideswipe grinned at his brother. An excuse to perform odd and alarming actions on Decepticons without getting thrown in the brig for it? Most excellent. “You’re on, Ratchet.” He and Sunstreaker gave each other high fives.


	2. Bonus Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aerialbots meet the new arrival; First Aid's still a little rattled.

"Ok," Ratchet said shortly. "You're clear. Now go." 

Silverbolt slid gratefully off the berth, sending a reminder to the rest of his gestaltmates to hurry up and not keep Ratchet waiting; the CMO was not in any sort of forgiving mood. He didn't recall ever having been so ruthlessly and thoroughly scanned before. Ratchet had ordered everyone to report to medbay for mandatory check ups, no ifs, ands, buts, or excuses accepted (not that anyone had tried). As far as Silverbolt could tell, no one had yet had the courage to ask Ratchet why they were being scanned, and he sure as Pit wasn't going to be the first. All he knew was that First Aid had gotten stuck with the twins in the ice storm and something had happened (Sideswipe, uncharacteristically, wasn't talking) and now Ratchet thought there might be something mysterious wrong with the rest of them, some sort of virus or spyware maybe? Although full resonance spark scans didn't make much sense, if that were the case...

Ratchet narrowed his optics, but turned to his next victim and made no comment as Silverbolt cautiously edged his way to one of the larger private treatment rooms to one side of the main medbay. The door was open, and he poked his head in, tapping his fingers lightly on the doorframe to alert the occupants. 

Hot Spot's red optics lit, looking up at him with a welcoming smile, although in Silverbolt's opinion he looked a bit...dazed, maybe, and tired. Getting Aid and the twins off the mountain in this weather couldn't have been easy, although his smile seemed too genuine for there to be too much terribly wrong. Silverbolt felt something in him relax; keeping tabs on the little medic had become almost as second nature as keeping track of his own team, even with Aid's own team back to resume their brotherly duties. 

"Silverbolt, hi," Hot Spot said softly, as he extracted himself from the Protectobot pile and come to the door. 

"Heya, Spot. I'm so sorry we weren't here earlier to help. How is he?" Silverbolt asked in concern, waving a hand in the direction of the pile although there wasn't much First Aid visible. 

"A little traumatized, obviously, but we finally got him to recharge, and they're both doing just fine, Ratchet said." 

Silverbolt blinked. Both? One of the others was sick, too? 

"Aid was mainly upset he hadn't even known about the little guy, and that he might have hurt him somehow, but it looks like he's fully developed and he's got functioning firewalls and everything, not like Roller was."

Ok, now Silverbolt was officially completely lost. "A what now? Little guy?"

"Ah." Hot Spot squinted a sheepish grin at him, scratching at his helm. "They didn't tell you then. First Aid sort of...had a baby?" 

"He did what?"

"It's a beautiful baby robot."

"What?" Silverbolt said, again.

"Eight fingers and six toes," Hot Spot said, laughing at Silverbolt's incredulous expression. "He's perfect!" 

Silverbolt stared at Hot Spot's smiling face, looking for the joke, except Hot Spot didn't joke like that and Blades and Streetwise and Groove were stirring on the berth, shifting to reveal what they guarded: First Aid, curled tightly in amongst them, hands tucked up under his chin as he usually did while recharging...only this time...

"Can...can I see?" Silverbolt asked, not sure if his status as older brother extended to this privilege just yet, but Hot Spot took his wing and nudged him closer. 

"You can try," he chuckled. "Little fellow's pretty shy so far - even we haven't seen him much yet." 

Silverbolt leaned down a little, acknowledging Blades' watchful gaze with a small respectful nod. First Aid looked rather the worse for wear, scuffed and scratched and in the deep recharge of the completely exhausted, but there was something small and gleaming silver, tucked in the circle of his hands under his chin, and a perfect tiny hand was stretched from between the fingers to rest against the white of his facemask.

Silverbolt stared in wonder for a long moment, then looked back over at Hot Spot’s smiling face. “Hot Spot…how did this happen?” 

“We’re not entirely sure yet, but it’s the same way Roller was constructed, by internal budding,” Hot Spot explained, keeping his voice at a low murmur, “only this little guy emerged right when he was supposed to and seems to be very healthy, according to Ratchet.” 

“So…so you’re telling me First Aid’s been walking around with a sparkling growing under his chestplates since…for how long?”

“We’re not really sure about that either,” Hot Spot said with a little laugh. “This is all a big surprise.” 

“He didn’t tell anyone?” Silverbolt asked, lifting an optic ridge. He knew First Aid sometimes kept things to himself, but keeping this big a secret from his gestaltmates… 

“’Bolt, he didn’t _know_ , not until Little Bee started coming out of his chest.” Hot Spot’s voice suddenly had a waver to it, his smile dropping, and Silverbolt put a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, it’s still sort of sinking in. They both could have…he was on a mountain, in an ice storm, in…in labor!” Hot Spot waved an arm aimlessly, although his voice stayed carefully quiet. Silverbolt wasn’t super clear on the details of the budding process, but if it was anything like the human equivalent (which Silverbolt was mainly familiar with via soap opera marathons in the rec room) it wasn’t surprising that First Aid looked like he’d been through the wringer. “And he was blocking us out, ‘Bolt. We couldn’t sense him anywhere, we couldn’t find him. Thank goodness Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were there, because otherwise…” 

“He’s ok now, Hot Spot. Everything turned out all right.” Silverbolt gripped Hot Spot’s shoulder tightly and Hot Spot shuttered his optics and took a few deep vents, his brothers watching worriedly from the berth and no doubt doing the best to comfort Hot Spot through the gestalt bond. Silverbolt hadn’t seen the Protectobot commander this rattled since he’d been a very young sparkling, but no wonder, after all they’d been through. First Aid disappearing like that must have seemed like all of their worst nightmares come true. 

Hot Spot shook himself a little and managed a smile at Silverbolt. “You’re right, of course. Sunstreaker was injured during his patrol, so actually it’s a good thing First Aid was there.”

“First Aid was doing repairs _and_ having a baby?” Silverbolt snorted quietly in amusement. “Why am I not surprised.” Not the first time the Twins and First Aid had saved one another’s afts, either. Weird how that kept happening. “Little Bee, huh? Cute. Does Bumblebee know he has a namesake yet?”

“Ah, well, that’s the other thing,” Hot Spot said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his helm again. Silverbolt looked at him curiously - something _else_ going on here? But his thoughts were interrupted by his gestaltmates. 

//Silverbolt, come and save me// Fireflight sent through the Aerialbot gestalt bond. //Ratchet’s being scary. Everyone else got Wheeljack to scan them, but Ratchet grabbed me. It’s not fair!//

//You’ll be fine Fireflight; Ratchet likes you best, remember?// Silverbolt sent reassurance. //Just let him scan you and don’t ask too many questions. The scan feels funny but it doesn’t hurt, I promise//

//How’s First Aid?// Slingshot asked. Silverbolt didn’t answer right away, and he sensed the sudden curious ‘tuning in’ from all four of his brothers at the mix of emotions, wonder and astonishment and concern, that Silverbolt was leaking into their bond. 

//Silverbolt? He…he is ok, isn’t he?// Skydive asked hesitantly.

//Aid’s going to be fine, don’t worry, but…well. Heh. It’s not anything bad, but it’s going to take a little explaining.// 

_Silverbolt, First Aid’s little surprise is not to become general knowledge yet,_ Ratchet commed with uncanny perspicacity, or maybe Fireflight’s expression had tipped him off. _I know there’s no keeping it out of the gestalt bond, but kindly warn your brothers not to go spreading the news until we have a better idea of what security measures we need to put in place._

Hot Spot was giving Silverbolt a quizzical look, and Silverbolt tapped on his helm as he tried to juggle both Ratchet’s comm and gestalt-bond conversation at the same time. Hot Spot grinned and clapped Silverbolt on the shoulder in understanding.

“They can come and see, too, if they want, as long as they’re quiet,” Hot Spot offered. 

“Um…” Silverbolt considered that, as he commed Ratchet back with reassurances that they’d keep . ‘Quiet’ and all four of his brothers in the same room didn’t really compute. “Thanks for the offer, Spot, but…”

Too late, Air Raid was already peeking in the door. Silverbolt grabbed him by a wing and unceremoniously dragged his most hyperactive brother into the small room, pressing him up against a wall and clapping a hand over his mouthplates, emphasizing the need for silence through the gestalt bond to forestall Air Raid’s squawk of protest.

//Not a peep, not a beep, I mean it Air Raid//

“Mmph!” //Ok ok!// Air Raid complied, his optics wide. //Sheesh, Silverbolt//

Silverbolt proceeded to fill him in, while the Protectobots watched in amusement. Air Raid flailed in astonishment a few times, and craned his helm to try to see the berth, but otherwise remained silent. Silverbolt was impressed. Unfortunately, he’d neglected to warn Air Raid to clamp down on the gestalt bond. 

“First Aid made a _sparkling_?!” 

Fireflight’s voice was loud enough to hear through the door from the main medbay.

//Oh slag. Fireflight!//

Silverbolt pressed Air Raid back to the wall with an admonition not to move, and then rushed back into the main medbay, where Ratchet had just completed Fireflight’s scans. He looked up at Silverbolt’s entrance with an expression that boded dire things.

“Ha ha! Very funny, Fireflight, nice joke. Come with me.” Fireflight eeped as Silverbolt nabbed one of his arms and marched him towards the private room with the Protectobots, with a firm order to Slingshot and Skydive to follow. At least Ratchet would yell at them quietly, for the sake of the sparkling, if they were all in there, was his main thought.

//If you thought Ratchet was scary before, you haven’t seen anything if you wake up First Aid. Everyone line up against the wall and _don’t move_ //

Streetwise and Groove weren’t helping at all, snickering quietly at the sight of the four Aerialbots crammed together and pressed up against the wall in the little room. Blades just sighed and shook his helm at them all, sharing a look with Slingshot of perfect longsuffering understanding that somehow made Silverbolt feel all warm and fuzzy inside. First Aid hadn’t so much as twitched, thank goodness, but the sparkling stirred and let out a tiny electronic cheep.

“Oh!” Fireflight exclaimed, catching sight of the tiny form as blue optics lit, peering out from the shelter of First Aid’s hands. At Silverbolt’s warning loom, he put both hands over his mouthplates but bounced up and down excitedly on his pedes. //He did! He really did make a sparkling!//

Silverbolt sighed and looked over at Hot Spot, and the Protectobot commander gave him an amused nod of permission. //One. At. A. Time.//

“Hi, little guy!” Fireflight whispered, leaning closer and wiggling one finger in the direction of the sparkling. “I’m your Uncle Fireflight.”

The sparkling cheeped and squeaked inquiringly, little blue optics blinking, and occasionally a small hand would appear, as the Aerialbots took turns peering at the new arrival. Silverbolt waited anxiously for a comm ping with a dressing down from Ratchet, but finally started to relax. Hopefully the fact that his brothers were managing to stay quiet (thank Primus for small miracles!) was saving them from a scolding for now.

The sparkling stirred even more restlessly, finally poking its entire helm out from between First Aid’s fingers, and let out a pleading, chime-like tone, a sound they hadn’t heard before. It wasn’t very loud, but First Aid suddenly drew in a sharp intake and sat up as if he’d been jabbed.

“Whoa, Aid!” The other Protectobots grabbed and braced their unbalanced and disoriented brother, keeping him from falling off the berth as First Aid clutched his sparkling close.

“Hey, good morning,” Hot Spot said, firmly back in reassuring gestalt commander mode as he managed to fit himself back on the berth and wrap an arm around First Aid. First Aid blinked at him, and then at all the watching Aerialbots, vents still running hard although his frame relaxed somewhat as he leaned into Hot Spot. The sparkling made the pleading, chime-like call again, and First Aid made a distressed sound in response.

“I think…I think he’s hungry,” First Aid said, running his fingers anxiously over the sparkling. It let out a series of hopeful beeps, grabbing on to First Aid’s fingers. Roller hadn’t been able to feed himself for a long time, Silverbolt remembered, and First Aid had spent most of Roller’s first vorn painstakingly refueling him every half-joor, round-the-cycle, until Roller had finally gotten strong enough to feed himself. Silverbolt still didn’t know how Aid had managed it. This little guy seemed to have a pretty good idea of what he wanted, though. Silverbolt watched the sparkling press his tiny mouthplates against First Aid’s fingers, searching for something.

//Look how cute he is!// Fireflight sent, his optics bright. //He’s all fuzzy and shiny and small, aww//

//He does look just like Roller did, only bigger// Slingshot observed. 

The door slipped open and Ratchet entered, holding something in one hand. Fireflight squeaked and moved to hide behind Slingshot. 

“He’s getting hungry?” Ratchet asked mildly, his voice as gentle as Silverbolt had ever heard. “I thought it might be time for his first refuel. Hello again, young mech.” 

The sparkling squeaked and buried its small silver helm behind First Aid’s hand as Ratchet leaned closer, almost exactly like Fireflight had done, Silverbolt noted with amusement, but then bobbed right back up again with a curious inquiring chirp as Ratchet handed First Aid a tiny cube of deep magenta repair-grade energon, like the ones they’d used for Roller when he’d first started taking his own.

//See, even the sparkling’s not as scared of Ratchet as you are, ‘Flight// Air Raid teased.

//I’m not scared of Ratchet!// Fireflight sent indignantly. //Only when he’s being scary, but that’s just common sense// 

“I’ve got a feeding tube, if he needs it, but I’m betting since he’s full term he’ll be able to drink right from the cube.”

“Oh Ratchet, thank you,” First Aid said, taking the tiny cube gratefully. The sparkling grabbed at it eagerly as First Aid tipped it carefully against his mouthplates. He took a gulp, sputtering and squeaking at first, and First Aid had to hold the cube firmly to prevent it from being spilled by the flailing of the tiny hands, but eventually he seemed to get the hang of things. They all watched as the sparkling drank the rest, making little contented chirruping sounds and looking up at First Aid as he helped his sparkling hold the cube. 

“Everything ok?” Wheeljack poked his helm in, flashing his vocal indicators warmly at them all. “Is the little bit fueling up all right?”

“Like a pro,” Ratchet said, smiling and waving Wheeljack in. “First Aid, too. You’d think he’d raised a hundred budded sparklings instead of just the one.” 

“That’s the last of the scans, Ratch, until the rest of the off-base mechs get back in, but it’s gonna take them awhile with the weather.” Fireflight gave him an excited hug, and Wheeljack patted him on the wing as everyone jostled around - there was barely room to stand in the small room anymore. 

“Wheeljack, look at First Aid’s baby!” 

“I know, kiddo, I know. Pretty cute, isn’t he?” 

“Can I make a sparkling, too?”

Silverbolt and Ratchet both looked up in alarm at that, but Wheeljack laughed.

“Not any time soon, kiddo, not any time soon. Making a newspark is not to be undertaken lightly. Maybe someday, though, if we can figure out how this one got here.” 

“Oh,” Fireflight said, slumping a little in disappointment, and Ratchet and Silverbolt exchanged wide-opticked looks, although now that Silverbolt thought about it, a tiny little Fireflight-sparkling, growing up with First Aid’s little one, it would be too adorable for words and Fireflight would certainly be a doting parent, and they would all help raise it, just like Hot Spot and the rest of the Protectobots would be helping First Aid and…

Skydive was giving him a very odd look and Silverbolt hurriedly tamped his emotions down in the bond, before Fireflight got wind of it; his brother did _not_ need any encouragement with that particular line of thought. Silverbolt couldn’t help feeling a little thrill of wonder, though. Without the Allspark, Cybertronians had been on a slow path to extinction, but not anymore. Not if they could bud their own newsparks. 

Ratchet was giving Wheeljack an amused look. “Not to be undertaken lightly. Says the mech who built ten sparklings,” he said, not unkindly. 

“Well, extenuating circumstances and all,” Wheeljack said with a modest wave, his vocal indicators blushing orange. The sparkling had finished his cube, and was now playing with the empty container with his tiny four-fingered hands. 

“How are you feeling?” Ratchet asked, resting a hand lightly on First Aid’s chestplates and running a quick scan. The sparkling squeaked and looked up at First Aid as Ratchet leaned closer, but didn’t hide this time. “Think you could manage a cube yourself?” 

“I’ll go grab one, Ratch,” Wheeljack said, giving Fireflight another pat (and Slingshot, who pretended to dodge him) and heading back out the door. 

“I’m a little sore,” First Aid admitted, glancing up at the senior medic and then down at the sparkling as it manipulated the empty cube, trying to wedge both feet into it. “I think it’s as much from falling down the mountain as anything, though.” 

“Falling down the mountain? Freakin’ Primus, Aid, what else happened to you today?” Air Raid said incredulously. At Silverbolt and Ratchet’s twin glares he held up his hands in apology. “Sorry, sorry. Shutting up now.” 

“Come on guys,” Silverbolt said, “let’s go and give Aid some space here.”

First Aid made a small, mournful sound of protest. “But…” 

“You don’t want us to go?” Silverbolt asked.

First Aid nodded, and by their expressions, Hot Spot and the rest of his brothers were also in agreement. “Please stay? At least…at least for a little bit longer? It’s nice to have us all together.” First Aid’s voice wobbled a bit, still raspy with weariness. 

_He’s holding it together fairly well right now, but he’s still in shock, I think,_ Hot Spot commed. _He really does feel safer with you all here. Me too, when it comes to that._

“Sure, we’ll stay for awhile, Aid,” Silverbolt said aloud, touched, “as long as we’re not wearing you out. For as long as everyone can _behave_.” Silverbolt’s brothers jostled a little in their places along the wall and grinned innocently. 

“Hm,” Ratchet said, giving them all a _look_ , but he did not offer any objections. 

Wheeljack returned with a cube of medical grade energon, and First Aid cupped the sparkling against his chest to hold the cube with his other hand. His brothers watched in approval as First Aid guzzled it down without a break.

“More?” Ratchet took back the empty cube with a raised optic ridge.

“Um, yes please?” First Aid said a little sheepishly. 

“Wow, Aid,” Slingshot said, impressed. They were familiar with First Aid’s refueling capacity to support his vast energy expenditures as a medic, but it still never failed to amaze. “You sure can pack it away.” The sparkling peered over at him from First Aid’s hand, and then ducked back down when Slingshot waved.

“Budding a sparkling takes a lot of energy,” Wheeljack said with a chuckle. “I’ll go get you another cube, kiddo, and some mineral cookies would probably do you good as well.” 

First Aid’s optics were already dimming a little as his tanks went to work processing the energon. The sparkling finally ventured from the shelter of First Aid’s hands, climbing to his shoulder to pat small fingers against First Aid’s helm and faceplates, and beep curiously at the other Protectobots. Groove held one of his own fingers just within reach, and the sparkling touched it delicately with his own hand and then retreated giggling to curl up underneath First Aid’s chin, blue optics blinking at everyone. 

First Aid put a hand up against the sparkling and nuzzled his chin down against him, and then went still for a long moment, his optic ridges a little furrowed, as if he were concentrating on something. The sparkling had uncurled and was now spread against First Aid’s upper chest, little limbs outstretched as far as they could go. “He’s…I have his frequency,” First Aid murmured, sounding surprised, his optics unfocused and a little distracted behind the visor. “He wants…he’s going through my language database.” 

Wheeljack returned with a cube in one hand and a whole box of mineral cookies in the other, but gave Ratchet a puzzled look as First Aid didn’t even seem to notice. 

“Remote uplink, I think,” Ratchet told him, flipping out a scanner from his arm to take a reading. “On a uniquely tuned creator-sparkling channel. Aid had to set it up manually with the hardline uplink with Roller, but it looks like it activates automatically with a full-term sparkling.” 

First Aid nodded. “He’s looking for a designation,” he said softly. 

“He knows what to do, even so small,” Streetwise said, fascinated. “Just like we did when we first onlined.”

“Hmm,” Wheeljack said, optic ridges rising, “so do you think he’ll pick…the name we think he’ll pick?”

“I don’t know,” First Aid said with a little laugh that to Silverbolt sounded more overwhelmed than amused. The thumb digit of Hot Spot’s hand moved where he gripped one of Aid’s arms in a subtle, comforting caress. “I’m trying not to make any suggestions. He’s a lot faster than Roller was.”

Silverbolt was confused, but didn’t want to disturb what the sparkling was doing by asking questions. Hadn’t they already named the newspark after Bumblebee? A little odd, Cybertronians didn’t often repeat names, but here on Earth maybe the Protectobots were doing as the Earthlings often did and naming the offspring after someone else, and First Aid _did_ positively dote on Bumblebee…

Hot Spot was watching Silverbolt with a hint of amusement at his expression. _That’s the other thing I didn’t quite get around to explaining,_ Hot Spot sent to all of the Aerialbots. _So you know how everyone assumed Bumblebee was created way back before the Cybertronian Golden Age? Turns out we were wrong. Bumblebee was created…well, we still don’t have an exact date, but probably in the last year or two, depending on how this budding process works._

The Aerialbots stared at Hot Spot with assorted puzzled expressions. 

_Hot Spot…what?_ Silverbolt sent, unable to come up with a more coherent question.

The sparkling chirruped happily, and First Aid made a sort of hiccuping laugh-sob. “It’s a good name,” he said, holding the sparkling in front of his face where it hugged his noseplate, pressing its small face against First Aid’s visor. 

“Eee,” the sparkling replied. “Bee eee! Bumbee! Eeebee Bumleee!” 

“Bumblebee,” First Aid repeated slowly.

“Bubbleeee eee!”

First Aid giggled, and the sparkling squeaked and giggled along with him.

“Bumblebee.”

“Bubblebee!”

“Bumblebee.”

“Bubee! Bumblee! Hee eee!”

“Almost! Bumblebee.”

“Blumblumbee!”

“Bumblebee.”

“Bumblebee!”

“You’ve got it!”

“Gottit! Bumblebee! Bee bee bee! Gottit, Bumblebee.”

“Yes, you sure do. Hello, Bumblebee, hello, little one.”

 _Oh Primus_ , Streetwise sent to everyone. _Blades, hold me! They’re so cute, I think I’m gonna explode._

Silverbolt was in full agreement, finding himself in helpless cuddle-mode between Skydive and Air Raid. Fireflight and Slingshot were practically sitting on Wheeljack’s lap.

 _Is he going to call First Aid ‘momma’? Since Aid’s his mom?_ Fireflight asked, his optics glowing brightly as he snuggled Slingshot’s arm like he was holding a sparkling himself.

 _Maybe he’ll come up with his own name, like Roller did,_ Wheeljack suggested. Roller had his own unique language of symbols, sounds, and gestures; his designation for First Aid was the blue band of First Aid’s visor, curved in a smile, and a sound with a sweet, musical inflection that he also used for Optimus Prime. 

“I think he wore himself out figuring out his own designation,” First Aid murmured, smiling at the tiny sparkling as he sighed and snuggled himself into the curve of his hands, beeping softly and blinking up at First Aid as his optics dimmed. “Learning everyone else’s names might have to wait.” 

“So, he’s really Bumblebee, like, for real? As in _actually_ Bumblebee, only little?” Air Raid asked hesitantly. “How is that possible?”

“Yep, he really is Bumblebee. His spark is identical.” Wheeljack answered. “We think Bumblebee, Big Bumblebee, came from the future, not the past. Possibly in the same time rift anomaly that we lost the rest of the Protectobots in originally; Bumblebee was recovered from the same orbital plane where we lost their shuttle. It would explain a few things, like Bumblebee’s solar energy coding, and why First Aid’s always been kinda attached to the guy,” Wheeljack chuckled.

Silverbolt shook his helm, wondering how it was that the weirdest things managed to happen to First Aid. He and the Protectobots had had more strange adventures in their short lifetimes so far than most mechanisms had in a hundred thousand vorns. 

“Wheeljack, what if…I don’t know what I’m doing,” First Aid said, his optic ridges drawn together in worry, one digit tenderly stroking the helm of the sleepy sparkling in his hand. “What if I mess everything up?” 

“Aw, I know just how you feel,” Wheeljack said sympathetically. “I felt the same way when each of you onlined; welcome to the club, kiddo. Don’t you worry, though, you’re gonna be just fine.”

“Mess everything up?” Silverbolt said incredulously. “Aid, you couldn’t mess this up if you tried; you’re probably the best-qualified of us to be a Creator. I mean, look at how awesome Roller is!” 

“And anyway, you know you don’t mess up because you’ve got Big Bumblebee right here, and he turned out great,” Air Raid chimed in.

“Greet!” the sparkling chirruped, optics brightening again momentarily as he lifted his arms up to First Aid’s faceplates. First Aid laughed and cuddled the sparkling closer, although fluid was leaking quietly from his optics. 

“See, even Little Bee agrees,” Hot Spot said gently. “We’re all in this together, Aid. We’ll figure it out.”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy,” Wheeljack said, “but I’m not worried about you lot. You’ve handled crazier stuff than raising one little sparkling,” he chuckled. “Now, how about some more energon and a cookie or two?” 

Wheeljack had brought enough cookies for everyone. They all munched companionably while First Aid drank another cube, more slowly this time, and nibbled on a cookie himself, although his optics were beginning to dim and flicker behind the visor. Little Bumblebee was tucked up in recharge under his hand against his chestplates.

“Feeling better now?” Hot Spot asked, as First Aid curled up around the sparkling, resting in his gestalt commander’s arms.

“Mmm hmm,” First Aid mumbled, nodding against Hot Spot’s chest. 

“Good.” 

First Aid sighed, and his systems whirred softly as he went into recharge. Ratchet took the opportunity to run a few more medical scans.

“They’re both doing great,” he said in satisfaction. “In fact-” 

There was a soft tap at the door, and Jazz poked his helm in.

“Ah ha, so this is where the party’s at. How’s everythin’ hangin’, my mechs?” Despite being his usual irreverent self, Silverbolt noted that Jazz was keeping his voice carefully quiet. “Aw, they rechargin’? I was hopin’ to see the new little bit Optimus was tellin’ me about.”

“He’s really cute, Jazz,” Fireflight told him.

“An’ how could he be anything else, with Aid as his mama,” Jazz chuckled. “That’s all right, I can wait ta meet him. Actually, the reason I’m stoppin’ by Ratchet is we’ve got some interesting guests at the gate, and they’re asking for you.”

“For me,” Ratchet said, frowning. “Interesting, you say. In what way?”

“Interesting in that it’s a bunch of Decepticon Seekers, and they’re all wantin’ you to check them for some sort of parasite infection?” Jazz shook his helm. “I dunno, Ratch. I didn’t see any parasites on ‘em. I think they’ve all gotten into a bad batch of high grade or somethin.’” 

“The Twins had a run in with a Seeker today,” Ratchet said slowly. “I’ll bet you anything Sideswipe has something to do with it.” The Protectobots all seemed to be trying very hard not to giggle, Silverbolt noticed, and he wondered what they knew. 

Jazz chuckled. “Wouldn’t surprise me one bit. Ya want me to have ‘em escorted to the medbay or you want to check ‘em out in the brig?”

Ratchet narrowed his optics. “I want to do a full resonance spark scan on them, too, while they’re here, and I can only do that in the medbay, but I don’t want them within a decaspan of the sparkling. Hot Spot, I was just about to say, there’s no reason you can’t take Aid and Bee back to your quarters.”

“Got it, Ratchet,” Hot Spot nodded. 

“Why doncha all stay there for awhile,” Jazz suggested. “Just until I give you the all clear.”

Silverbolt had bristled reflexively at the idea of Decepticons on base with the sparkling. “We’ll be your escorts,” he told Hot Spot, as the Protectobot commander stood, carefully cradling First Aid and Little Bee.

“And your guards,” Slingshot said, puffing his armor out and sharing a fierce grin with Blades, who puffed out his own armor and jostled Slingshot lightly.

“Let Aid recharge and refuel as much as he wants, same for Little Bee, I’m sure he’ll let you know when he’s hungry. No transforming for Aid for a couple of days, just to be safe.” The Protectobots listened closely as Ratchet gave his medbay discharge instructions.

“Oh yeah,” Jazz said, as they started to file out. “Optimus said ta tell Aid he’s got at least six weeks of maternity leave, more if he needs it.” 

“Maternity leave,” Ratchet said, crossing his arms and smirking down at the recharging junior medic. “Ha! I like it.” 

Hot Spot dipped briefly to let Jazz get a peek at the little ball of sleeping sparkling in First Aid’s hands, and then they all started to make their way through the medbay. 

“Oh yeah, and one more thing.”

They all turned as Jazz spoke up again from behind them.

“Take Sides and Sunny back with ya, too, while yer at it. They’re both out there guarding the medbay doors.” 

“Sunstreaker’s injured,” Silverbolt heard First Aid say from somewhere behind him, soft but distinctly. “He should be recharging.” 

“Aid!” his brothers protested, laughing. “ _You’re_ supposed to be recharging, too.” 

Maternity leave. Silverbolt shook his helm and snorted softly to himself. Yeah, out of all the impossible feats he’d seen the Protectobots pull off, that might just be the most far-fetched yet.


End file.
